


Study Session

by toastweasel



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, oblivious baby stone butch moira, soft sex as requested by the moicy discord, this is just pure smut, welcome to my sin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-06 11:41:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14056230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toastweasel/pseuds/toastweasel
Summary: Angela might have had ulterior motives when she invited Moira to her room to study for their organic chemistry final. She was a tall glass of Irish whiskey, and Angela intended to sip.





	1. Study Session 1

Angela _might_ have had ulterior motives when she invited Moira to her room to study for their organic chemistry final.

The Irish woman was infuriatingly intelligent and handsomely smug. Angela had had classes with her for three semesters in a row; after an entire year of dealing with her, and a summer to think about it, Angela had decided that she’d rather kiss her than smack her.

She had been flirting with her since they came back from the summer holidays, but with little luck. Moira was either not interested or completely dense. Angela at least knew, _theoretically,_ that Moira liked women; she had seen her at the Pride Center at a Women to Women meeting. So, theoretically, Moira also knew Angela was interested in women, too.

_So then why wouldn’t she flirt back?_

Did she just not know how? With her lack of tact and acerbic attitude, it was entirely possible Moira had never curated a personality long enough to learn how to flirt.

She could certainly get girls, if she tried. She was handsome enough for it, especially when she wore reading glasses while she reviewed her notes, and she knew how to dress. She was a tall glass of Irish whiskey, and Angela intended to sip.

If only she could get Moira’s attention. Or, at least, get her to realize she was flirting with her. She had caught Moira’s eyes lingering on her for longer than most would consider appropriate for a professional interest. They sparred intellectually in discussions in a way that was far from just a healthy classroom rivalry.

Yet Moira never made a move.

God, was it infuriating.

So Angela had decided it was time to take things into her own hands.

“I thought we might start with a few problems,” Moira said as she ducked into Angela’s coveted single. Angela had cleaned up for the occasion, but she still scrambled to clear up the papers on her bed so Moira could have a place to sit down.

“That’s fine. Shall we redo the homework ones?”

“Or we could pull from the textbook,” Moira replied as she unhooked the strap of her briefcase from over her shoulder. “Answers in the back.”

“It’s a shame neither of us purchased the solutions manual.”

Moira gave a little shrug and flicked open the latch of her briefcase. Angela settled on her bed as the other woman pulled out her laptop and notebooks. To her disappointment, instead of sitting beside her, Moira grabbed the chair from her desk and pulled it over to the bed.

“Do you remember if it’s cumulative?”

“It’s not,” Moira said coolly, and flipped her notebook open to the right page. “We should focus on the material since the last exam.”

“Mmm, I agree. Let’s start with carboxylic acids and go from there.”

They did. It soon became clear neither of them really needed the review. It also became clear that Moira was abnormally fidgety in a one-on-one scenario. Her foot jiggled as they whirled through alpha carbons, and by amino acids she was fussing with her pen. It was incredibly endearing, if slightly annoying.

“I’m going to take a break,” Angela announced, after they had gone on like this for an hour and a half.

“Okay…”

Angela stood. The light was starting to fade in her little room. The blonde took a moment, stretched, and went to turn on the desk lamp.

Moira took the time to take a drink of water from the bottle clipped to her briefcase and wipe her palms on her slacks. “Are the facilities at the end of the hall?”

“Mmhmm.”

Moira disappeared out into the hallway. Angela took the time to unwrap a Belvita biscuit and take her own drink of water. She had been making little ploys over the course of the session that seemed to be working in her favor—she had unnecessarily touched Moira’s leg several times, which had caused the other woman to consistently lose her train of thought. She had leaned over perhaps a tad bit more than strictly necessary to get a piece of paper and had caught Moira’s mismatched eyes flitting away from her cleavage when she pulled back.

If Moira didn’t like her, she’d intentionally flunk her final.

“Are you ready to get started again?”

Moira’s hair and face were damp—she had clearly splashed water on her face. Was her tie loosened a fraction?

“Sure.”

It was.

Instead of going back to the bed, Angela stepped forward into her space and took a hold of her tie. She saw Moira’s face light up with blush that spread to her ears. From this close the blonde could count the individual freckles that were smattered across her nose. “You’ve gotten a little loose here.”

“I—”

She’d never seen cool, collected, austere Moira this flustered before. Or, indeed, ever seen her this red before. The flush clashed horribly with her hair, but Angela thought it more charming than anything. Before Moira could panic and pull away, Angela daintily slid the knot of the tie back into place and slid her fingers between the collar of her shirt and Moira’s heated skin to reset the lay of the collar. Moira stood stock still underneath her corrections; as Angela’s fingers grazed her neck, she could feel Moira’s pulse thudding wildly.

“A-Angela—”

“There,” the blonde said definitively, and pulled away with a flirtatious smile. “All straight.”

Moira swallowed reflexively and reached up to touch the knot. “Well…that would make it the only thing, then.”

Angela smiled. “Well, why would you want to be?”

Moira smirked a bit, but she did not meet Angela’s gaze. Instead, she drifted back towards the bed. “Should we… ah… continue?”

The blonde sighed. “I suppose. We’re almost done.”

Moira made a noise of agreement and distractedly sat on the bed.

Angela sat beside her, then reached over her for her things; she felt Moira still. She clicked her pen open and craned her neck to spy the page number of the open textbook in Moira’s lap. “Let’s try to get this done before dinner.”

“What,” Moira drawled with a glance her way, “do you have a hot date tonight?”

Angela shot her a coy look. “That depends on how fast we finish…”

“Oh.” The other woman brought a hand to her mouth to distractedly chew the skin around one of her cuticles as she turned her attention back to the textbook. Suddenly her demeanor was cold. “Well, I suppose we should hurry, then. Wouldn’t want you to miss your date.”

Angela huffed in exasperation. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous.”

She wasn’t sure if Moira’s silence was annoying or incriminating.

Two hours passed. Finally Moira put down her pencil with an annoyed little huff. “How much longer are you wanting to go with this? It’s almost ten o’clock.”

Angela glanced at the clock. It was, indeed, a little past quarter after nine. “Not much longer, I guess. If you have to get going, you can.”

Moira shrugged. “I’ve nowhere to be tonight, but I was under the impression _you_ had a date.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to spend it with you.”

“…pardon?”

“Jesus, Moira, for one of the stars of the program you sure are obtuse.” Angela reached over and grabbed her tie again, tugging her close. “I can’t tell if you’re being purposefully obtuse to get a rise out of me because you’re insufferable or if you’re actually that blind.”

Mismatched eyes glanced between her and the tie in confusion. “I’m not sure I follow…”

“Maybe I should clarify,” Angela replied shortly, then leaned in and kissed her. It was chaste, barely a second. When she pulled back, Moira blinked stupidly.

“Oh.”

 _“Oh?”_ Angela intoned in growing frustration. “I’ve flirted with you for months, and now I’ve kissed you, and all you can say is _oh_.” She paused. “Unless you’re actually not interested in me.”

The flush was back, creeping hot and red up the back of Moira’s neck; the budding geneticist was determinedly was not making eye contact. “I…didn’t realize you were…”

The blonde sighed and stood up. Maybe she had been wrong after all. “Perhaps you should leave, then.”

She’d miscalculated. She’d been too drawn in by Moira’s cockiness and intelligence. She’d mistaken the signs of an introverted lesbian for the symptoms of a crush and had ruined a professional relationship because of her own lust. Fuck.

 At least it was almost the end of the semester.

Angela was so caught up in her own head that she was thoroughly unprepared for the rush of gangly limbs that heralded Moira’s ascent from the bed.

The crash of her chapped lips against her own was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. Angela let herself sink into the sudden kiss—sloppy, but earnest, rather different from the prim and pompous Moira O’Deorain she knew. Angela grabbed her tie, pulled her in close, and savored the gasp that slipped into her mouth.

When they finally broke apart they just stared at each other.

Moira swallowed. Angela held her gaze. They were so close she could feel Moira’s breath puffing softly on her face. The Irish woman’s hands were on her hips; soft, firm, and warm.

“Moira…” Angela said softly.

“Angela...”

Oh God, her voice had gotten even huskier. Without meaning to, Angela leaned up on her toes, and Moira kissed her again. Their third kiss was slower, softer, more controlled. Moira’s hands unconsciously tugged their hips together, and Angela’s hands slid up around her neck. Her fingers played in the soft hairs at the nape of Moira’s neck; Moira rumbled her approval and pressed against her.

Angela took one step back, then another, and suddenly she was against her desk, the edge of the carrel pressed uncomfortably into her back. But Moira was still kissing her. Hadn’t stopped, really, except to trip after her on those lanky legs like the world’s biggest puppy. The desk in her back didn’t matter, really, because Moira’s mouth shifted to her neck and kissed up, up, up, until her mouth was behind her ear and she gave a little suckle and Angela moaned.

_“Moira.”_

The other woman froze.

Angela felt her stiffen. “What’s wrong?”

Moira paused, and Angela could hear her swallow. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” Moira grumbled, and moved her mouth back behind Angela’s ear. The blonde whimpered her approval and threaded her fingers into her hair. Moira seemed content to kiss and suckle the same four spots on her neck, but she was so good at it that Angela didn’t mind.

Angela slid her hands down, pressed her hands to Moira’s chest. She could feel her breasts, small and round, but could not feel the strap or fabric of a bra. Did Moira not wear one? That turned her on the more she thought about it.

All of a sudden Moira’s hand settled on her ass and squeezed; Angela squeaked, pressed against her harder, tugged her tie loose. Moira’s long, slender fingers skimmed up and her thumbs hooked into the band of her skirt.

“You can take it off,” Angela husked. Moira hesitated. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

“I’ve uh…” Moira pulled back, her cheeks pinked and hair disheveled. “I’ve never gotten this far.”

Angela raised an eyebrow. “With kissing like that?” The way Moira had made out with her, the way she had kissed her neck, it definitely felt like she had kissed (and then bedded) hundreds of girls before her. “Why not?”

“Well… generally, I don’t proceed past kissing.”

“Why?”

“Because it means…” Moira made a vague gesture of helplessness. “More. Sex.”

“Are you scared?” Moira did not respond; her silence was more than telling. Angela ran a soothing hand along the curve of Moira’s neck. “You don’t have to be scared.”

“I’m not.”

Angela raised an eyebrow. Moira looked off towards the window, eyes glazed.

“Sex is just about feeling good,” Angela said softly as she rubbed a little pattern on Moira’s skin with her thumb. “Not about proving anything. Just hormones and body chemicals and a little bit of movement. Nothing to be scared of.”

Moira ducked her head in acknowledgement. “I know.”

“We don’t have to do anything.” Angela pulled her hands away and stepped back. “We did sort of get carried away.”

 “No.” Moira paused, looked down at Angela’s body, then back at her. “I want this.”

The way she said it, the earnest note in her voice, made Angela shiver in anticipation. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve wanted it for months.”

The blonde smiled; so she was right. Moira _had_ had a crush on her. She tugged Moira in. Moira’s hands fumbled for a second as they kissed, then found the waistband of her skirt. Her hands pushed at the fabric but it refused to budge.

“Zipper.”

“Right…” Moira found the zipper and slid it down; Angela’s skirt fell. She stepped out of it as Moira unabashedly stared at her.

Angela squeezed past her and led her over to the bed. “Bit small, but we’ll fit alright.”

Moira smiled tightly. Angela pressed a kiss to her lips to distract her, and smiled when Moira’s hands settled on her hips. Angela could not quite believe this was happening—she was standing in just her panties and shirt with Moira O’Deorain in her room. A Moira O’Deorain who had expressed interest in her, specifically in having sex with her.

Moira’s hands stroked up and down her thighs and the blonde shivered in anticipation.  They were still standing; she could tell Moira was waiting—hesitant. She needed a little push. Perhaps a bit of a demonstration.

“Do you want to go first?” Angela asked against her lips.

A pause, then a nod. Angela pulled back and studied her. Did Moira look relieved?

Moira’s hands went shakily to her belt buckle; when it was undone, Angela reached in to undo the clip and fly. Moira had no hips to speak off, so the pants sagged rather quickly. Angela pushed them down until they pooled at the Irish woman’s feet; Moira tried to step out of the legs, but realized they had forgotten her shoes as she got tangled in the pant legs.

“Fuck.”

Angela laughed and reached out to brace Moira so she could extricate herself. She discovered Moira’s figure was not a trick of tailoring—she really was just a long and skinny thing, a veritable beanpole of a human being. Once Moira had finally freed herself, and taken off her shoes, Angela cleared off the bed and then guided her onto it.

It was a tight fit. The tiny dorm bed was meant only for one; Moira was so long her feet hung off the edge, and they were cramped uncomfortably against the wall, but both of them had come this far. Angela kissed her again, nibbled on her bottom lip as her hands skimmed down, and then up the insides of Moira’s bone pale legs.

“What do you like?” Angela murmured as she traced the edges of Moira’s briefs. They were soft cotton, white, utterly utilitarian—so like Moira, but Angela would have thought Moira would be more of a boxer briefs sort of girl; black, spandex or poly blend. It was an interesting quirk to her personality.

Oh well, they’d be off soon enough.

“Erm.” Moira looked uncomfortable at Angela’s question regarding her sexual preferences and gave an awkward sort of shrug.

“Well, what makes you feel good?”

Another shrug.

“Don’t you masturbate?”

“Not really.”

Angela blinked. “Don’t you ever get turned on?”

“I guess….” Moira was staring past Angela again, or maybe just at the shoulder seam of her shirt. Anywhere but her face. “I don’t ever really _do_ anything about it.”

“I see… I guess we’ll discover together then.”

“A true scientific discovery.”

Angela giggled and cupped her face. “Let me know if you want me to stop.”

Moira nodded. Angela slotted her leg between Moira’s and pressed up; she gasped, hot and loud in Angela’s ear, and rocked her hips against her thigh. Angela moved and pressed with her, smiling into Moira’s shirt as her legs trembled.

Long fingers gripped her hips almost painfully and Moira tucked her face into Angela’s neck as it went on. Her breath and groans were stifled against her neck, like she was biting her lip to keep quiet. Angela fantasized what it would be like if they weren’t in a small dorm room bed, if they were some place where Moira could be more vocal. What kind of noises would she make then?

Her lover’s hips stilled; Moira was panting.

“Okay?”

“Mm.”

Angela smiled and traced a hand in between them; her fingers skated across Moira’s stomach, traced the bony protrusions of her pelvic bones, then slipped her hand under the waistband of her underwear.

“No!” Moira blurted, and grabbed her wrist.

The blonde froze and withdrew her hand immediately. “No?”

“I—no.” Moira’s voice was hushed, almost ashamed sounding, which was a rarity. “I don’t want…no penetration.”

“No penetration. Of course. Can I rub your clit?” Moira hesitated for long enough that Angela knew she would not be comfortable doing so even if Moira said yes. “…It’s okay. No fingers it is. What about my mouth?”

Moira inhaled sharply at the idea and shifted against her leg. She whimpered, and Angela smiled.

“Is that a yes?”

Moira nodded her affirmation.

“Okay.” Angela pulled away and slid off the bed. Moira sat off and Angela reached up. “I’ll need those off.”

Moira pushed them from her skinny hips, and once they were off, Angela settled on her knees between Moira’s legs. She could feel the warmth of her skin against her waist. “Let me know at any time if you want me to stop.”

Another nod.

Angela smiled encouragingly at her and spread Moira’s legs, and felt her shift back onto her palms. She could smell her arousal, musky and rich. When she leaned in to lick a stripe up her folds, she discovered a small patch of slick that eagerly spread across her tongue as she passed over it. Moira groaned.

Angela licked another strip, then slipped her tongue in to find her clit. Moira swore and her hips jumped as she found it. She began carefully, with gentle licks and sucks, uncertain of her sensitivity level. It quickly became clear that she was; the slightest flick of her clit caused Moira to inhale, and the swirl of her tongue around the nub brought Moira’s thighs around her ears.

The blonde leaned back to give her a break and Moira exhaled raggedly. “Alright?”

Moira grunted.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.” The single syllable was growled like it was being ground between Moira’s teeth. She sounded frustrated. Angela decided to not be a tease and leaned back in; it was Moira’s first time, after all.

Moira groaned as her mouth reconnected, and Angela pressed the flat of her tongue repeatedly against her entrance. A keen made it past Moira’s lips before she covered her mouth with a hand.

It was with small, soft licks that Angela brought Moira to orgasm, the older woman tensing and tensing until she finally came in silent convulsions, eyes clenched shut, breathing heavily through her nose. Angela helped her along until it passed, then ran a soothing hand up and down her pale thigh.

“How was that?”

“I—” Moira pulled her hips back. “I need my underwear back.”

Angela blinked but retrieved them. Moira pulled them on and sat on the edge of the bed; Angela noticed that her knuckles were white against the sheets.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I should go.”

_“What?”_

Moira stood and retrieved her pants.

“Why?”

Moira didn’t answer, just slid her long legs into her pants and pulled them up ~~.~~ She was already clipping them closed as she stooped to pick up her belt and shoes.

“Moira—hey!”

“Good luck on your test, Angela,” the Irish woman mumbled out, then she grabbed her things and fled. Angela couldn’t exactly go after her in just her underwear, so she stared at the door, confused by Moira’s sudden shift in moods and unexpected departure.

She thought she was going to teach Moira how to pleasure her, then ride her fingers and gasp out encouragement until she came. She thought she was going to strip Moira naked and see if her nipples were as sensitive as her clit. She thought she was going to cuddle with Moira and make out lazily with her until one or both of them fell asleep.

What had she done wrong?


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira pays Angela back for her upsetting exit.

The word was _stone_.

She should have been studying, or sleeping, or doing anything else that might have been productive. It was finals week. She had exams, she had papers. And what was she doing?

Moira O’Deorain was three pages back into her internet search, having rabbit holed into the AVEN wiki in search for a solution as to why her night with Angela had gone so disastrously wrong.

It had been bothering her. Kissing Angela had been amazing. The idea of pleasuring Angela had made her ache. Grinding against Angela’s leg had felt right. But having Angela between her legs, while _theoretically_ enjoyable, had been anything but.

She had just felt uncomfortable, and her orgasm had come from the stimulation and less from Moira’s actual enjoyment of the act. It had been overwhelming, that feeling of being _wrong_ even when she had read so much about how she was supposed to feel _right_ with a girl between her legs, on the receiving end of her sexual gratification.

Moira had fled the dorm room. The confusion and guilt on Angela’s face was seared into her cerebral cortex in a way that kept her up at night. Her own inadequacy kept her up at night. She had to find the solution—there must be a word, something to define the way she had felt that night, propped up on her elbows in Angela’s Ziegler’s twin dorm bed and feeling nothing but discomfort as the woman in question gave her head.

Asexual wasn’t right. Demisexual was not right. Grey ace was familiar, almost something, but still incorrect.

Then she’d found it: _Stone._

_“Stone (adj): one who does not like to be sexually touched genitally by their partners; however, they still provide their partners with sexual gratification, and often experience pleasure themselves in doing so._

_Ex: stone butch”_

This was the word, the answer to the issue that had plagued her for days. What had followed her since she had been conscience of sexual identity and her own ideas of attraction and repulsion. The feeling that had not gone away, no matter how much research she had done or how many times she had tried to force it herself in lonely hostel bunks in the dead of night. The feeling that had only solidified the second Angela had opened her legs and pressed her mouth to her cunt.

Stone.

 _Fuck,_ everything made so much _sense_ now. She sat back in her chair and let the profound sense of relief wash over her.

There was a name. A name for the feeling, a name and a definition she could use to explain to Angela so hopefully she would stop haunting her dreams.

It was two o’clock in the morning, but that did not stop Moira from leaning back in launching herself back into the internet archives to learn everything she could learn about this new word, this new identity, this new puzzle piece that fitted into her being so well it was like it was meant to be there alone.

_Stone._

-/-

Angela was not certain how well she had done on her organic chemistry exam. She had known the material cold, sure, but she had not slept well and was distracted the entire exam but the back of Moira O’Deorain’s stupid ginger head.

Moira’s head, along with her beanpole of a body, got up fifty minutes into the exam and turned her paper in. Angela made eye contact with her as she left, leather satchel over her shoulder, and Moira at least had the decency to look ashamed.

It was easier to concentrate after that.

She spent until the last second on problems, checking and double checking her answers. She thought, by the time the proctor called time, that she had found all of her mistakes. She was so absorbed in her own thoughts, and of the thoughts of her last final exam in two days, that she did not see Moira peel herself off the wall and head towards her. Angela pushed through the double doors, headphones in and power music playing, intent on beating a retreat back to her dorm for a nap before she started studying anew.

“Angela!”

Her snapped her head up at the sound of her name. When she saw the person who had called her, she scowled. _“What?”_

“It took you long enough,” Moira drawled, and fell into step beside her. “What were you doing, reinventing the benzene ring?”

“Well not all of us got eight hours of sleep and apparently have a clear and unmarred conscience.”

To her surprise, Moira grimaced. She glanced around at the stream of students around them and said in a low voice, “We need to talk.”

“About what?” Angela asked, perhaps a tad more harshly than she had intended. “Haven’t you done enough damage? If I bombed that final, and don’t pass the class, my career is finished.”

“It’s called being stone!” the Irish woman exclaimed hurriedly, suddenly, with a great gesticulation of her long arms.

“…What?”

“Stone,” Moira said, more quietly this time. “It’s when you don’t like to be touched genitally but still enjoy providing your partner with sexual pleasure.”

Angela stopped in her tracks and whirled around; Moira narrowly avoided getting beamed in the stomach by her bag. “Are you serious?”

“…What?”

“Why didn’t you _say anything_?”

“I didn’t know until the night before last.”

Silence passed between them. They were standing in the middle of the walkway; people eddied around them on either side, but the two of them remained steadfast.

“Might I make it up to you?” Moira offered hesitantly. “My...erm…abrupt departure?”

“And if I say no?”

“Then I’ll wish you well on your last final of the semester and be on my way.” Moira gestured towards the parking lot down the road, and where her car was undoubtedly parked. “Although I heard orgasms are good for stress. Would you like to test that hypothesis?”

Angela could feel her cheeks burn. She wanted to be angry with Moira, for not keeping communication open, for leaving her the way she did…but she had just offered her an apology, and a rather unconventional one at that. Plus that _voice._ The suggestion had already made her a little wet.

“You tell me everything. As soon as you feel uncomfortable, you tell me.”

Moira nodded earnestly.

“And don’t you dare run away again.”

“Of course.”

“…And you don’t mind that I’m in sweatpants?”

Moira shook her head violently.

“Then let’s go. We’re blocking traffic.”

A smirk twisted its way onto Moira’s lips and she followed after Angela, up the hill towards her dorm. “What did you think of the exam?”

Angela shot her a filthy look. “It was easier to concentrate after you left.”

Moira immediately looked like she wished she had not asked.

“If I got another more than a B I’ll be surprised.”

“I’m certain your reputation as one of the classes’ best students will remain secure,” Moira drawled. “You’ve more than enough points in the class to maintain your A.”

“But it will probably only be an A-.”

Her companion rolled her eyes.

It was a short walk back to Angela’s dorm. When they reached it, she swiped them in and they pushed through the doors into the lobby. The elevator was packed with students returning from morning finals so they climbed the stairs to her fourth floor room. Angela unlocked the door and immediately took off her shoes and bag. The adrenaline from the exam was wearing off; would she even be able to stay awake long enough for Moira to make good on her apology?

“Should I strip now, or later?” Moira asked wryly as she locked the door behind them.

“Would you be more comfortable that way?” Angela asked.

Moira’s mouth opened, then closed. Suddenly, she appeared to once again be all bashful nerves. So much for her big talk. Angela sighed. She almost pulled Moira into a kiss, but paused to give her one final warning.

“Remember. Communicate.”

“Of course,” she murmured in return, then leaned down and closed the distance herself.

Angela hummed softly into Moira’s mouth. She could feel the distant waxiness of chapstick on her lips but was soon distracted from the feeling by Moira’s teeth gently tugging on her bottom lip. She gasped, and Moira pushed against her until they were against the wall.

Oh, this was nice. Moira was warm and strong, the length of her body plastered against Angela as they made out, hot and heavy. Angela grabbed her tie, a familiar move now, and held her close. And then Moira shifted, pressed her leg between Angela.

“Oh, _fuck._ ”

“Do you like that?” Moira asked, not cocky, just curious.

“Nnn, yes,” the blonde breathed, “press harder, please.”

Moira did; Angela moaned. Her leg was surprisingly hard, all the more enticing to grind against. Moira began to rock in time with her, her breath hot against her neck. Angela’s hand grasped at the back of her hair; her fingers scraped through it, and Moira gave a soft little noise of pleasure as she scratched with her nails.

Angela pressed closer to her, the press and grind of Moira’s leg making her a little desperate. The ginger’s hands found their way to her waist, then into the band of her sweatpants; Angela gasped as Moira’s long fingers curled around her ass.

“Too much?”

“No,” Angela purred and leaned up to kiss her again. Moira’s mouth was quick to open under hers, but halfway through Moira seemed to realize that _she_ was the one who was supposed to be in charge. The tone of kiss shifted; suddenly there was an energy between them, hungry and intense, there had not been before. Angela realized that when Moira kissed, she did so with her whole body. The way her torso pressed forward against her own, the way her hands dragged Angela’s ass closer, pulling her down harder on her leg as she slid her tongue into her mouth….

It was horribly intoxicating. Angela fisted her hands in Moira’s hair and coaxed her onwards, canting her hips so that the seam on the crotch of her joggers pressed _just so_ against her clit each time Moira’s leg thrust against her center. Finally, Moira pulled back to catch her breath, and Angela wanted to drown in the darkness of her lust-blown pupils.

“Bed?” Angela asked hopefully.

Moira nodded enthusiastically, and the two of them practically tripped over each other to her single. Moira tugged off her tie and popped open the top two buttons of her shirt before she crawled over Angela and kissed her again. Angela groaned into her mouth and tugged her shirt out of her pants. Moira reached down and palmed her breast through her tank top; she was not wearing a bra. The gentle touch made Angela shiver but gave her no real relief.

“Harder,” she rasped, and Moira responded in kind. Angela arched into her hand, and as her confidence grew Moira started to knead as she sucked a hickie to life against Angela’s clavicle. A soft noise of appreciation escaped her lips and Angela skated her hands up Moira’s hands and into her hair. She scraped her nails along her skin and Moira’s breath puffed hot against her skin as she exhaled shakily.

“Angela, please….” Moira’s voice was deeper, rougher, her accent thick and rich in a way that sent heat directly to her core.

“Sorry,” Angela was not really sorry at all, and Moira could clearly tell. She moved her hand down and squeezed her ass; Angela gasped in surprise and pressed her hips up towards hers fruitlessly. Moira shifted to kiss at the other side of her neck, and Angela rolled her head to the side to allow her access.

“Do you like it rough, Angela?” Moira murmured against her, squeezing at her behind again.

Angela squeaked out a breathless, “Yes!” and felt Moira’s lips stretch into a smile.

“And you…like to hear me talk?” She sounded more hesitant about that, but Angela flushed in embarrassment none the less. Damn her for being so astute. Moira pulled back at her silence, but at seeing her flush she looked even more smug. “What else do you like?”

Angela reached up and took a handful of her purple dress shirt, then met her gaze and held it. Moira stared back unblinkingly. “Your hands, in my pants.”

Now it was Moira’s turn to blush. She was clearly thrown by the directness of the request. She glanced down at Angela’s waistband, suddenly nervous, her freckles slowly overtaken by the red painting her cheeks. “Oh, uhm…mmm…”

“Giving up so soon?”

“Of course not,” Moira said immediately. “You’ll just need to teach me what to do.”

Angela paused, then nodded. She reached down and shoved her sweatpants down her thighs. Moira pulled back as she pushed them the rest of the way off, then kicked them away.

“I know what to do in theory of course,” Moira babbled, clearly anxious and looking anywhere but Angela’s coral colored panties. “I’ve done lots of reading, I know how it all works biologically, but it’s different when—”

“Moira,” Angela interrupted, her voice slow and calm. Moira glanced up at her and blinked owlishly.  Angela’s curled her fingers around her free hand and traced her thumb soothingly against her forearm. “Breathe.”

Moira’s chest expanded and contracted as her breath whooshed in and out of her lungs. Angela smiled beatifically at her, giving her a second to recenter. Then she tugged gently on her wrist and guided it between her legs.

“Oh,” Moira said softly as Angela pressed her fingers against her. She held her there for a second, then let go and draped her arm around her neck. Moira’s fingers squeezed hesitantly, testing the fabric and give of her wetness below it, and Angela whimpered needily. “Is this okay?”

Angela nodded and shifted her legs wider so Moira had more room to maneuver. Moira waited until she settled then set about squeezing and massaging her through the fabric. Angela pressed to her touch, desperately wanting more but knowing that Moira had to get comfortable before she could get it. She curled her fingers into the short hairs at the base of the Irish woman’s neck and tried to control the pace of her breathing.

Eventually Moira began to grow bold, and she drew her fingers along the seams of her panties. Angela whined softly as she passed through the rough curls that escaped the confines of the fabric.

“Can I touch underneath?” she finally asked, softly as if worried the woman underneath her would say no.

 _“Please.”_ Angela was not ashamed to admit there was a bit of a beg to her voice.

Moira smiled and pulled back; Angela took off her panties and tossed them off to the side. Moira looked down at her and the wetness glistening damply against her blonde curls. The way she bit her bottom lip, either from nerves or sudden concentration, and exposed a slip of white enamel, melted Angela’s heart.

 “It’s okay if you can’t make me come right away,” Angela told her as she settled back down on her elbows. “It’s your first time so I don’t expect—”

“Making you come will be no problem,” Moira husked, and her fingers grazed up the inside of her thighs towards her center. “I’m a fast learner.”

“That’s big talk,” Angela gasped out, losing her bravado as soon as Moira’s fingers were against her cunt. She pitched forward, hands clutching at Moira’s button down as she caught Moira’s lips hungrily with her own. She moaned as her fingers started to explore and map her slickness, tracing her entrance before moving up to find her clit.

 “Higher,” Angela whimpered against her lips, and raised her hips to guide Moira home.

“Here?”

Angela shook her head. “Higher.”

Moira’s fingers slid up and traced around her clitoral hood. “…Here?”

“A little bit---nnghh,” Angela pressed to her touch as Moira grazed her engorged clitoris. “Mmm….yes…”

A smile curled against her lover’s lips. “How should I touch you?”

“Slow—mmm, no not there.” Angela reached down and oh so carefully arranged Moira’s long, pliant fingers on either side of her clit. Both of their fingers became slick with her wetness as she adjusted her and then showed her how to move. A firm press down, then a hard and slow squeeze upstroke. Repeat.

“Got it?” Angela asked breathlessly.

Moira nodded. Angela leaned back and let her experiment with her strokes; soft encouragement turned to moans as Moira became more in tune with her needs.

“Is this okay?” the elder asked softly, the wet sound of her fingers slipping through her folds the only sound besides their heavy breathing and Angela’s moans.

“Yes,” Angela hissed, not wanting her to stop. She could feel the low build starting inside her, tension pooling in her back as Moira’s fingers continued their slow, careful pace and precise movements. “Fuck, how are you so good at this?”

“I told you, I’m a quick study,” Moira murmured, and Angela felt herself clench at the burr in her voice. “You’re getting a bit dry, though. Do you have lube?”

Angela shook her head. “Just…use my wetness…dip your fingers down and—”

Moira did. Angela whimpered as her fingers slid against her entrance; it was all she could do to keep her hips from bucking into her touch. A hot gush of air exploded from her nose as Moira slid her slick back up over her clit.

“Fuck, Moira please—”

She felt Moira’s fingers fumble for a second, exposing her inexperience, before she repositioned her fingers back around Angela’s clit and started up her pace again. Angela’s legs started to shake the longer she went at it. The tension was spooling up her spine, settling at the back of her neck, primed to explode in joyous bliss. She could feel it creeping up her temples, overwhelming her senses. She was getting close, so close, she just needed a little bit more—

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, then in the same breath ordered, “faster…fuck, please—”

Moira’s fingers sped up, and a hint of sloppiness entered in her eagerness. Angela keened as her fingertips slid over the exposed tip of her clitoris, and suddenly all she could focus on was the rapid press of her fingers over the nub of nerves. She barely had time to shove her hand over her mouth before she came.

The orgasm burst behind her eyes and washed over her, fireworks exploding through her senses and searing beautiful fire through her veins. Her back arched and head rolled, her moans of pleasure stifled by her hand as Moira continued to rub.

It felt so good. So so fucking good. But as it continued, it became too much. She grabbed at Moira’s hand desperately. “Sto—stop—stop!”

Moira froze. Angela whimpered and closed her eyes as the supernovas faded against her eyelids. It had not been particularly intense an orgasm, all things considered, but the emotional dam that had unleashed was huge. She lay there for a moment, hand over her mouth and eyes shut, collecting her thoughts.

She felt the Irish woman move her hand away and shift back on her heels. “Are you alright?”

Her voice was hushed, nervous. The genuine concern forced Angela to open her eyes; Moira’s heterochromic eyes swam into view, her face contorted in apprehension. Angela wanted to kiss away the crease between her brows.

“I’m fine,” she told her softly, and smiled up at her to alleviate her anxieties. “You just…did a very good job.”

The smirk that tugged at the corner of Moira’s face made her heart flutter. “I told you.”

“Put that cockiness away,” Angela told her sternly, then winked to show her she was teasing. “It was your first time.”

“You think it was beginner’s luck?” Moira asked with a frown.

“I see no evidence to the contrary.”

Moira leaned forward; Angela gasped as she felt her fingers cup her sex, still sensitive and soaked with her wetness. They were almost nose to nose, and the look of hunger in Moira’s eyes was maddeningly arousing.

“You want me to do it again?”

She knew she felt her clench, her fingers were right next to her entrance. She did not want to encourage this behavior, Moira was pompous enough in the classroom, she did not need another avenue to express her sass…but there was something about it, the aura it gave her, and that husk in her voice that was such a turn on that Angela could not help but nod and say, “Yes.”

Moira grinned like a shark and kissed her.

.

.

.

Moira, as it turned out, was very much in the business of ‘making it up’ to Angela. Angela spent most of the afternoon and early evening stifling her moans as Moira explored her thoroughly with her fingers and tongue. She learned all of her secret spots and made her come apart under her several times, until Angela pushed her away weakly and shook her head.

“No…no more, Moira…”

Moira pulled away from her cunt and licked her glistening lips like a cat with the cream. Angela watched hazily as she sat back on her haunches and worked out her locked jaw.

“Enjoying yourself?” the blonde asked as she sat up and reached for her shirt, which had been discarded some time earlier.

“Mmm.” Moira watched her for slip on the tank top, then stood and went to retrieve her water bottle off her briefcase. “Yourself?”

“Tolerable,” Angela replied with amusement in her voice. “I think my stress level is much better.”

Moira chuckled and flipped up the straw on her water bottle to take a sip. “I’m glad. That was the intention, was it not?”

Angela smiled and scooted off the bed. Moira watched as she crossed the room to the tiny dorm room dresser and pulled out a fresh pair of panties—a cute sky blue pair dotted with little polar bears with scarves. Moira hid her smile into her water bottle.

“I guess you have to get going?” Angela asked as she pulled them on.

Moira glanced at her watch. It was almost dinner time. “You have an exam, don’t you?”

“On Friday,” Angela said, her voice muffled as she bent over and pulled out a fresh pair of jeans. Moira tried not to stare at her butt. “So in two days.”

“Mmm. So you have time?”

“It’s just my English class on Oscar Wilde so it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Oscar Wilde?” Moira asked, intrigued. “Is it an elective?”

“Uh huh, for my humanities credit.”

“What’s the final like?”

“Well, the paper was due last week. I have a ‘lightning style’ presentation of my arguements and then we’re doing line recognition. Like Jeopardy, but worse.”

“Oh. Well…” Moira licked her lips again, nervously. She could still taste Angela there. “I could help you? I happen to be quite the fan of Oscar Wilde’s work.”

“Of course you are,” Angela said with nothing but fondness. “If you’re really up for it, I’d love the help. I’m awful at quizzing myself.”

Moira gave her a shy smile. “Well, I…have to get my bike but—”

“Your bike?” Angela interrupted, her train of thought about her ridiculous Oscar Wilde final derailed.

“Yes, my bike,” Moira said, slowly, and reached for her briefcase. She flipped it over to show Angela the clasps, and for the first time Angela realized it was actually a pannier. Moira was a bike commuter, not a driver.

“You bike?”

Moira nodded slowly. “I took it up in Japan.”

Angela tilted. Moira had spent time in Japan? There was so much more behind that perfect red hair and immaculately tied neckwear than met the eye. She wanted to know more.

“Anyway,” Moira said, determinedly not looking at her. “My bike is locked up by the Bio-Chem building. I thought we could get it and we might….”

She hesitated, trailed off. Angela crossed her arms under her breasts and waited; Moira would have to pluck up the courage herself. She had tried unsuccessfully long enough.

Moira squirmed under her gaze, then ran a hand through her disheveled hair and tried again. “Would you like to get dinner? Before we go over Wilde?”

“ _Now_ you ask me to dinner,” Angela teased with a smile, but in reality her stomach was squirming in delight. She closed the distance between them fiddled with Moira’s half undone shirt. “If we’re going to go out, you need to button up…and I need to put on a bra.”

Moira smiled to herself and immediately reached up to do the buttons.

“Go get your bike,” Angela told her, “and I’ll meet you over there?”

“Over at the Bio-Chem building?” Moira asked as she fixed the lay of her collar.

Angela nodded and stooped down to pick up Moira’s tie. “Don’t forget this.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, and slipped it around her neck. Angela watched as she deftly knotted it with a few quick flips of fabric. When it was done, Moira picked up her bag, and Angela adored the way her thumb ran nervously over the leather handle. “So, I’ll…see you soon?”

“Mmhm. I’ll see you soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for being so patient! I hope you enjoyed this. Thanks to Faid for the unofficial beta. 
> 
> If you liked this chapter, please leave me a comment telling me what you liked the best? 
> 
> Thanks, and see you next time!


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